


tears of the soul

by stormsong91



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/M, braimebaby, fuck twincest, jaimeandbrienneforever, this is a feelz trip, tyrionisamazeballs, why do I do this to myself lol, you will probs cry waterfalls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormsong91/pseuds/stormsong91
Summary: After Jaime’s death, a heartbroken Brienne finds the will and the hope to carry on without him after a late night conversation with his equally grief-stricken little brother.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	tears of the soul

“what is stronger than the heart ,  
which shatters over and over, and still lives.” 

-rupi kaur

The wars between men are over, I’m told; and yet, I feel as though the greatest war is just beginning. 

The halls of the Red Keep drown my ears in silence, a silence so great, sometimes I fear as though it could swallow me whole. 

Much has happened in the span of just merely a month; the defeat of Cersei Lannister and her Golden Company was not an easy one. Many died; many innocents...the city itself threatened to crumble down into the earth. In the depths of her madness, the Dragon Queen also fell, and with her, any hope of a Targaryen reign. The remaining who had swore loyalty to her returned to their foreign lands not long after the embers on the ground cooled. With her death, Jon Snow retreated to the Far North to escape into solace. The only ones who hear from him now are those that hold his heart in their hands. 

In the midst of advising and helping her brother rebuild a peaceful reign and city, Lady Sansa worries for Jon; I am quick to drown those worries by telling her that Jon is nothing short of a warrior that’s as fierce as the dragon blood that we have learned burns inside of him. With that dragon blood also comes the blood of wolves; beasts that thrive in the unforgiving force of winter. He’s the epitome of both.

Despite the carnage we have endured, we’ve remained resilient and strong. I remind myself every day that in order to survive, one must remain strong; powerful. They are the only driving forces that keep me breathing another sunrise. 

These thoughts swim around the center of my mind as I walk across the room of my chambers, a small log in the grip of my hand. As I toss it into the opening of the fireplace, I watch the flames grow and lick at the sides of the hearth. In my weakest moments, I wish that the fire in front of me would grow too large to be contained; that it would engulf me in heat and fury until I became no more. 

I let an exhausted sigh move past my lips as I slowly, carefully lower myself into the chair that sits just in front of the fireplace itself. Settling into the frame, I sigh again, feeling an all too familiar gnawing grief return to the pit of my stomach. 

My hands subconsciously run themselves against my growing belly. Although I have a promise of new life growing inside of me, I myself am living without my heart. 

Yes, the whole of my heart died the day he took his last breath. 

It’s the cruelest, most hateful thing. 

Death. 

Since he left, I have wished with all my being every day and every night that I had never met him; that I didn’t come to know him; that he didn’t come to know me. 

My bed is my own personal hell. I never sleep; but rather, lie in it and scream into the blackness of the dark, pleading with whatever bloody gods out there to take away the pain that consumes and cripples me. 

When I close my eyes, I see him everywhere; in every corner and fiber of my mind. He’s smiling at me; teeth flashing, eyes bright and alive with a certain kind of energy. 

I can’t think about him for that long before hot, wet tears pool at the rim of my eyes and then spill out and down the hollows of my cheeks. I groan, quickly bringing a hand up to rub at one of the sides of my wet face and tilt my head back a bit to stare into the ceiling. 

When does this, all of this, end? In the forthcoming days? Weeks? Months? Perhaps, dare I think it...years? The more I dwell on it, the real question that haunts me is how does this end? Does this end with me absolutely losing my mind and shriveling up into nothing? Will the pain I feel be too much and finally become too much one day and come to take the air from my lungs? 

Am I destined to be nothing more than a broken, shattered woman who screams and cries for the love she has lost? 

Will none of it ever find me again?

He should be here, I think to myself as my gaze scans the awnings above above me.

He needs to be here...for me, for us.

There are moments when I want nothing more than for him to reach out of the sky and pluck me up into the safety and tranquility of wherever he is, but that is nothing more than a childish wish. 

I laugh softly and bitterly, shaking my head in the process as I lower my eyes back to the crackling fire. 

Right then, a brief, fleeting moment of dare and despair runs through me, and I hastily force myself to say his name. 

“Jaime,” I whisper softly, feeling my voice crack as I call out into the void and close my already tired eyes, “please, find me.” 

A firm knocking on the main door shakes me out of my thoughts as my eyes jolt open. 

There’s a slight pause, and then…

“Ser Brienne, I happen to know that you’re still awake at this hour. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something.” 

Tyrion’s voice is muffled against the wood of the door. A part of me wishes he’d leave, but I know he will not. 

“Yes,” I say a bit hoarsely, tightening my wrap around myself, then make an effort to stand to my feet, “just a moment”. 

I stop in front of the door and take a few fleeting seconds to pull myself together before inhaling deeply and opening it to a wide crack. 

The youngest Lannister sibling meets my gaze in an instant. The smile he wears is mixed with sadness and warmth. He lifts up a small flask and offers a smirk. 

“No one seems to want to talk to me while I drink,” he tells me as I open the door a bit wider to let him in. 

“I can’t imagine why,” I counter as lightly as I can, shuttling the door behind the both of us. 

He shoots a dry laugh as he examines my chambers, as if he’s looking for something. After a few moments, he sighs, then turns to the small table that sits against the south wall of the room. 

“That looks fairly cozy,” he nods towards the table and two chairs on either side of it, “care to sit with me?”

I want to reject him; to tell him that I’m far too tired to engage in any meaningful conversations, but I know that Tyrion is just as knowing as he is intelligent. I could never say no to him without him wanting to know what is taking place in inside my head. 

I nod silently and follow him over to the table. He sits closer to the fire and turns in his chair so that his back is resting against the stone wall behind us. I plant myself across from him, taking the time to interlace my fingers together on top of the surface. We both sit in the stillness of the room for a while; the only sounds emitting out into the air are the soft pops of the fireplace and even softer sips from the flask Tyrion holds. 

After another moment passes, he clears his throat a bit roughly, then turns to look at me directly. 

“Ser Podrick has told me about the training at the grounds that occurred today. What he said sounded promising. I knew rebuilding an army wouldn’t happen in the time that I or anyone else wanted it to, but I think we’ll get there.” He pauses, taking a drink before continuing, “I am sure that it is no easy task, but we’re grateful for you. Without you, I think the men now defending this new kingdom would have a much better chance of having their heads cut from their bodies in record time. Gods know most of them didn’t even know how to swing a sword before you began to mentor them.” 

I blink a few times, as if not really sure what to say. Still, I make a small effort to show my gratitude. 

“The honor is all mine, Lord Tyrion. I am more than thankful that King Bran entrusts me to help protect the walls of this city and perhaps even beyond that.” 

His eyes never leave my own as I speak, and as I finish my words, he offers me a crooked, yet knowing smile. 

“You’re an incredible woman, Ser Brienne.” 

A hint of heat tickles at the sides of my face. As I open my mouth to speak, I find that nothing is able to come out. Instead, I break the gaze that we share, aiming my stare back towards the glowing hearth. 

“But, if I may, I think that...perhaps,” I hear him exhale loudly, “perhaps it’d be best if you distanced yourself from combat techniques; at least, for a while.” 

My eyebrows arch at his request, and I can feel my head practically snapping back to look at him. 

“Has anything I’ve done been unsatisfactory, my Lord?” 

His eyes widen at the realization of what he’s said, and moments later, he’s shaking his head sharply as if he’s made a mistake. 

“No, no. Not at all. As I’ve said, we’re lucky to have you here with us. I’m just proposing that perchance, someone else help with the grit of it all...for now. For the sake of your health.” 

This time, it’s myself that feels my eyes enlarge. The awareness of what he is trying to say; to tell me, sinks into my body. 

I want to stand up and yell at him; to tell him he nor anyone else has a right to order me to step down from my position. It is one of the highest honors of my life.

Rather, I stay steady and quiet in my chair. Lord Tyrion gazes at me for a few moments, than drops his eyes towards my midsection. I squeezed my folded hands together, feeling heat grow in between them. 

“Lord Bronn of Highgarden has assured me that he has quite a few more than qualified knights to help with the battle practices. They are on their way to capitol as we speak. In the meantime, it would be best for you to command your soldiers, rather than engage.” 

We stare at each other for a few, long moments. I then swallow thickly, keeping any emotion at bay. 

“Does the King command this?” 

Lord Tyrion slowly bows his head up and then down. 

“He agrees with the proposition, yes.” 

I wait a moment to nod my head in understanding, exhaling loudly in the process. 

“Very well, then, my Lord. I can assure you, I will not involve myself in any physical stresses.” 

The words themselves almost puncture me. Fighting is something that has been in my blood since I was little; it has saved me more times than I could possibly ever count. To be told that I cannot do as such makes my insides want to scream with anger. 

I drop my stare back down to my hands, watching my fingers loosen and then play with each other. The snapping fire from the hearth seems to grow louder in my ears. 

“You do understand why this is necessary? This isn’t meant to be a punishment. Your health is of the utmost importance.” 

I give him nothing to acknowledge his words. After a brief moment, I can hear him letting out a long sigh as he rubs at the side of his face before swirling the flask around in his hand. 

“There are days where I feel like I cannot wait anymore,” Tyrion begins after what feels like an hour of silence. “I don’t want to wait nine months to see my brother’s face in your child.” 

His words instantly stab and pierce me from the inside; already, I feel repeating tears beginning to brim at my eyes. I will myself not to let them fall over onto my face. 

Not now.

“Some days, I want to do nothing but sit in my room and stare at the fucking wall. Jaime was,” Tyrion stops; his jaw clenching tightly, “Jaime is the only person in the whole of my life that accepted and loved me for exactly what I was...a little dwarf boy that caused the death of our mother and brought grief and bitterness to our family because of it. That little boy grew into a little man; a little man who, I’ll admit, made some very foolish decisions in his prime...and despite all of them and all of the bloody pain I brought to him, he still loved me. He was the truest, most loyal person I’ve ever known. Every breath I’ve taken since his death is like a direct jab into my fucking heart.” 

It’s then when he lefts himself break; soft, yet agonizing sobs pour from behind his lips. I look at him, and he’s the same as me. Broken; splintered into almost nothing.

Our hearts, identical; jagged and sharp and hard and cold…nothing like they were before he left us. 

Tyrion attempts to cover his mouth to muffle the wails that come out of him, but he fails. His weeping soon drowns out the sounds of the fire as he places his flask on the side of the table and doubles over. 

It’s too much for me. Something snaps in me, and I begin to weep with him. We take turns filling the room with our never ending grief, screaming at the four walls that surround us. This goes on for some time; after a while, the both of us, hoarse and drained of everything, fall quiet. 

That’s when Lord Tyrion pulls himself to his feet, using the side of the table for support as my eyes follow his form. He trudges over to the fireplace; his feet planted on the fur rug beneath him, his arms leaning straight against the hearth. 

“I...used to be so full of pride for the sole reason that I believed that he couldn’t love anyone more than me. Not even our sister. I was wrong about that,” He smirks crossly. “I accepted the fact long ago that Cersei’s grip on him was far too tight for him to free himself. She was a monster; a demon...hellbent on destroying life as we knew it. There were many times where he questioned her sanity, whether it was right to still love her, and felt guilty for doing so.” 

Indignation mixes into the sadness that sits in my stomach at the thought of his sadistic, evil sister. I never thought it was possible for myself to hate anyone until I witnessed the burdens of shame she had placed on him. I wish more than anything that it was I who had strangled the life from her eyes. My fingers twitch at the very thought of it. 

“But you,” Tyrion continued, turning and meeting my gaze, “oh, fucking gods, Brienne. How he loved you. I can’t even begin to describe to you how you made him feel.” 

A surge of warmth fills me. 

He begins his walk back towards the table, his eyes never leaving my own. As he sits back down across from me, he slides ones of his hands across the length of the surface until it’s sitting on top of both of my own. I loosen my grip and instinctively take his hand into my palm. 

“He told me about the the night in the baths at Harrenhal. When you held him in your arms as he fainted...that’s when he knew. That’s when he knew he couldn’t ever let you be with anyone else. From then on, he battled his demons for you. Everything that Cersei had made and molded him in the years they shared together began to slowly fade away because of you. You challenged everything he thought he knew. You were everything he wanted to be and become. He saw the beauty in everything you did, even all the little things.” 

I can’t help or stop the the tears that once again find the sides of my cheeks; instead of the plague of anguish I battle with, I feel sparks of bliss.

As Tyrion stares into my irises, I swear it’s almost as if I’m looking into the eyes of his brother. 

“If there was ever a moment where he believed he could have stayed with you in the safety of Winterfell, he would have in a heartbeat. He was madly in love with you. He still is.” 

I let out a quiet, joyful sob, to which Tyrion mirrors. It’s the first time in a long while that his smile reaches out to the ends of his mouth. 

“And he has a powerful, unconditional love for the child you share together,” he then says, motioning down towards my belly, “I know he does. He’ll never stop loving the both of you.” 

I squeeze my fingers against his own; perhaps a little too firmly. If I’m hurting him, he doesn’t show it. 

“My lord, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love your brother. My heart soars to unending places when I think of him. Even in his death, I often find myself wanting to be where he is…” 

“No need for that,” he tells me, “because he’s already with you. Right now, in this room,” his eyes shift around us, “I can feel him...here, there, everywhere.” He uses his free hand to encircle us. 

I grin with happiness and sadness. 

“I love him.” 

Tyrion nods, giving my hand one more squeeze. “He knows, Brienne, he knows. Never be in doubt that he’s not beside you. Always.” 

Slowly and gently, he pulls his hand away from my own and pulls it back towards his body, grabbing his shiny silver flask in the process. 

We share one last moment of tenderness before he reaches up to rub the slumber from his eyes. 

“I’m afraid I must try to retire now, as should you. You and my future niece or nephew could use a good, long night’s sleep.” 

I let out a quiet laugh, then nod my head. “Of course, my Lord. That sounds like a decent idea. Let me see you out.” 

We venture gradually over to the door and linger for just a little longer before I open the door and Tyrion sees himself out. He turns around one last time, folding his arms behind his back. 

“Goodnight, Ser Brienne. I do hope the words we shared on this late night brought some sense of comfort to you.” 

I find myself managing a light grin as my fingers brush against the doorknob. 

“They did, very much so,” I tell him, “thank you, my Lord.” 

He nods in response and offers one last smile as well. “Goodnight, my dear. Sleep well.” 

“As do you.” 

I close the door quietly behind me, then turn around to take in the peaceful silence of my room. The more that I dwell on Tyrion’s words, the more tranquility I’m able to find. No longer do I have any questions or lingering worries or doubts. 

Tyrion has been something of an angel to me on this night.

Jaime must have known that I needed him. 

With a smile still spread across the edges of my lips, I wander over towards the edge of my bed, letting my fingers trace along the intricately patterned designs of the cover. 

Shedding my wrap to leave it at a pool around my feet, I feel a cool draft under the fabrics of my smallclothes, then pull the covers back and crawl and then sink down into the softness of the mattress. I then lean back, staring at the ceiling once more; my forearms lightly strewn over the middle of my stomach. 

“Goodnight, my heart,” I whisper tiredly and quietly into the air, “the both of us love you.” 

I close my eyes completely, and after searching for it for so long, slumber finally finds me.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve held onto this gem of a “feelz ride” until now. I hope you all loved it as much as I do!


End file.
